Serving Netaia
by Misti Wolan
Summary: Firebird Trilogy — A servitor of Carradee's expresses in writing what she can never say aloud.
1. Default Chapter

**Summary**: _Firebird Trilogy_ — A servitor of Carradee's expresses in writing what she can never say aloud.

**Rating**: (conservative) PG

**Author's Note**: By the time anyone reads this, it'll probably be quite old. Please review, anyway. Thanks. Enjoy! :)

Requested Reviewing Rules: **Don't** blaspheme or swear, but **do** critique, and **do** put a smiley after jokes. Thank you.

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**Serving Netaia**

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I am Rami, a servitor of Crown Princess Carradee Angelo, of Netaia.

As of today, I have joined this household as chambermaid.

Today, the Crown Princess took a consort. Prince Daithi Angelo. Her servitor requirements have doubled. Currently, some are here on loan from lower houses; more newcomers as myself shall be found, presently. Out of school, perhaps; or recently reduced. We might get some from public duties, but all the cleanup necessary from the marriage celebration makes that unlikely.

Princess Phoena mildly damaged a recall pad's screen, today. The Crown Princess let me keep it. She is so kind… It's unnatural, for an heir to be kind. She's kind to Lady Firebird, too.

I do not mention such impressions aloud, for fear of further punishment. But Her Highness waited so long to marry, I cannot help but think that some affection for her wastling sister had something to do with it.

My great-grandfather murdered a nobleman. I am the last generation of his incarceration. My children shall be free.

…That is, if the Powers grant me a husband of like standing.

As one of my position, it is unlikely. I silently tend to my mistress's household. My duties leave no time for a personal life. I am younger than my fellows; my body not as tired. I do much of their work, as well as my own.

Only a few years hence did I complete the schooling required of a servitor. I know the Powers; what they demand of me. I fear death, the Dark that Cleanses I will then face. I will never have opportunity to forego it… How can a mere chambermaid give her life in obedience to the Powers?

I can list all the crimes one of my station can perform, with their possible punishments. I can name the Powers. Each of the members of the noble families and the Power representative of them. Anything and everything a servitor should know, I know.

Part of me wishes I'd been assigned to a lower household… One with some compassion, that exemplary service might free me. None but another servitor will marry a servitor… And the Crown Princess has no male servitors who are also on their last generation. There is no man I know who I could marry, here; my children would still stay in service from their father's line.

Do the nobles give such assignments on purpose; giving those who are nearly free no choice but to join with lines still under judgment? Maybe even cause resentment, inducing some to rise up and receive further punishment, lengthening their descendants' servitude.

My mistress calls me. I must go fill her bath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary**: _Firebird Trilogy_ — A servitor of Carradee's expresses in writing what she can never do aloud.

**Rating**: (conservative) PG

**Author's Note**: Finally, I'm posting this! Hurrah! Enjoy:)

Requested Reviewing Rules: **Don't** blaspheme or swear, but **do** critique, and **do** put a smiley after jokes. Thank you.

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Thirteen years ago, today, I was born.

…So what?

It's odd, all the fuss that's thrown over the days on which the nobles' mothers gave birth. Her Majesty doesn't even get her own birthday celebrated—it's the same day every year, regardless of on what day the current queen was born. The Queen's Birthday is probably the biggest soirée of the year for the nobles. Everyone else gets older without anyone batting an eye. Are all planets like this? Are all cultures like ours?

I hunch over my recall pad as I write this. Glimpses around keep lookout for others. If someone was to read this…

That mustn't happen.

But I cannot keep it in. It must come out, so I release it in the only way I can that others will not find.

…That is, should not.

If they do, I will undoubtedly lose my last-generation servitor standing; and, in all likelihood, my life.

My ears perk at someone mentioning my name, Rami. I soon return my attention to the pad. It is naught but the usual. Whispers about me clutter the kitchens. They are not certain if I am mute or stupid.

It is neither. I am mute by choice and smart enough to know that you cannot know who will twist something you say to earn a higher place at your expense.

I never have cared much for speaking.

As for intelligence, I learned more quickly than many my age… not that it gained me, a mere servitor, any benefit. It's actually to my detriment, for those known to be quick-minded are _expected_ to rebel, almost. Or so it seems. I daren't ask such a blatant question aloud—yet another question plaguing me to which I cannot give voice. I mustn't, daren't; can't. The fear near suffocates me, sometimes.

Everyone tells me Netaia is so much better than the rest of the Whorl… I look around me, at the generations punished for an ancestor's sin, at the gruesome executions of the actual offenders, and I cannot help but think that there must be a better way.

The thought that no one might have that better way frightens me. With how stern Netaia is, how terrible is everyone else?


End file.
